


Loud, Louder, Loudest

by Seek_The_Stars



Category: Be More Chill - Iconis/Tracz
Genre: Angst, Depression, Eventual Fluff, Friendship, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Jeremy is a Sad Boi, M/M, Panic Attacks, Pining, Post-Squip, Romance, Self-Hatred, Suicide mention
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-12
Updated: 2017-07-14
Packaged: 2018-12-01 01:52:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 9,715
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11476104
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Seek_The_Stars/pseuds/Seek_The_Stars
Summary: It took two weeks for someone to finally take action and address the gray, oblong ghost of an elephant in the room. Jenna, who was usually the least invested in their lunchtime conversations, slammed her phone down on the lunch table and broke the tense silence that had befallen the SQUIP Squad.“Alright, that’s it,” she snapped. “Who has at least heard from him since he got out of the hospital?”





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> After reading literally every BMC fic on this site, I'm gonna contribute this shit show to the fandom.
> 
> I also haven't written in like 13 months so this is rusty. Please critique because I legit enjoy being told I'm doing something wrong. 
> 
> (and what do you mean I'm living vicariously through jeremy i don't know what you're talking about)

It took two weeks for someone to finally take action and address the gray, oblong ghost of an elephant in the room. Jenna, who was usually the least invested in their lunchtime conversations, slammed her phone down on the lunch table and broke the tense silence that had befallen the SQUIP Squad.

“Alright, that’s it,” she snapped. “Who has at least _heard_ from him since he got out of the hospital?”

Michael pushed the headphones from his ears—he hadn’t been listening to anything, too busy listening to the familiar scuffing of old Converse, hoping that Jeremy would show. Post-SQUIP Jeremy had abandoned him faster than SQUIPped Jeremy (but at least now Michael had six new friends to call on for help when he felt like crying alone in a bathroom).

“I went on a lunch date with him,” Christine supplied, her usually cheery face downtrodden. “We, uh, we broke up afterwards. It was mutual”

Chloe dismissed Christine’s comment with a wave of her hand. “Even if it wasn’t, that doesn’t explain why he’s missed so much school.”

Jake frowned, directing his attention to Michael. “Have you been over to his house since the whole play incident?”

Michael shrunk under the scrutiny of six gazes. No, he hadn’t. He didn’t wanted to set foot in the Heere household after everything that had happened. Visiting Jeremy in the hospital had been hard enough, and watching him ask out the girl of his dreams even harder.

“He texted me after his date with Christine,” Michael explained, fidgeting with the tattered hem of his hoodie. “After the break-up, I mean. He didn’t seem to upset.”

Rich let out a surprised squeak. “You haven’t been over to hith houth? Aren’t you two bathically fuck buddieth?”

Chloe and Jake, who sandwiched Rich across the table, elbowed him simultaneously.

“He usually comes to my place,” Michael admitted. “I let him know he’s always welcome, even after everything, and I’ve texted him a few times since, but…”

Jenna quirked an eyebrow. “Define ‘a few times.’”

Michael pulled out his phone and scrolled through his messages to Jeremy. “Twenty-seven.”

Rich whistled. “Oh, you’ve got it hard.”

Another elbow to the ribs from the people next to him. Rich grumbled something under his breath, and then took a more sympathetic stance. “Maybe he jutht needth time away from uth.”

“But away from Michael?” Brooke rested a delicate hand on Michaela’s shoulder. She let out a sigh.

Michael wanted to wrench himself away from Brooke’s tender touch; it was almost too much for him. Still, he wanted that comfort, wanted to feel grounded and safe with people who had been strangers and bullies just a month ago. He leaned into it a bit, shutting his eyes and removing his glasses. When her fingers brushed along his new patch—the gay pride patch, the one he’d been so excited to show Jeremy because that boy had stood up against the homophobia Michael faced and god it would have been adorable to see Jeremy get all blushy at Michael’s sudden decision to come out of the closet officially—he flinched.

Brooke retracted her hand as quickly as Michael had moved.

“Sorry,” Brooke said, her voice barely a whisper.

Michael retrieved his glasses, tossing his phone on the table. He glanced away from his concerned friends, ignoring the heat rising in his cheeks.

“Should we call him?” Christine asked meekly.

Michael shook his head. “I’ve tried that already. Several times.”

Jake poked at the cardboard-flavored pizza on his tray—no one had attempted to eat any food so far. “If he hasn’t replied to Michael, he won’t reply to us.”

Jenna picked up her phone again, fingers tapping away. Michael assumed, at worst, Jenna could pester Jeremy into responding. The thought made his lips twitch into a smile.

It must have been a creepy one, because Chloe eyed him suspiciously. “What’s that look for, Michael?”

The word “pester” echoed in his mind, reverberating and magnifying itself with each repetition. Whatever was going on with Jeremy, the SQUIP Squad was giving him too much leeway. Jeremy had friends, old and new, to help him through this… funk, or whatever it was.

He flashed back to the birthday no one had remembered, the birthday where Jeremy had shown up at Michael’s house, unannounced, bearing a plethora of gross dollar store candies and a rare Magic: The Gathering card.

“I didn’t have enough allowance for the good snacks,” Jeremy had said apologetically.

But Michael didn’t care that half of the candies were past their expiration dates, or that his own parents had forgotten it was his special day, or that _shit he might be having feelings for his best friend who was most definitely as straight as a ruler._

Someone had remembered him.

Someone had cared about him enough to drop in without any prompting and shower him in birthday wishes and hugs and high-fives.

Someone had his back.

Something poked Michael’s cheek, bringing him back to the present. Rich leaned across the table, one finger sticking out, and he regarded Michael with a half-worried, half-amused expression.

“You trippin’ right now?” he asked.

Michael glanced around the table at his friends: Brooke, who knew just what to say to flatter anybody out of a bad mood; Jake, whose optimism had kept Michael (for the most part) distracted from Jeremy’s daily absence; Christine, too kind and loving to rightfully exist in this horrible world; Chloe, who, despite her snarky persona and the occasional rude comment, truly looked out for everyone she cared for; Jenna, the one who could make you feel better by digging up dirt on anyone else and texting endless memes from the dark recesses of the internet; and Rich, whose comic relief status did not undermine the fact that he had suffered, and could empathize better than any first-rate therapist.

These were the people Michael needed in his life, and these were the people Jeremy needed, too.

The bell rang, signifying that lunch was over. As his newfound friends crammed a few bites into their mouths, Michael finally spoke.

“Are you guys free after school?”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I let you have some time off to recuperate, but don’t think you can just skip school whenever you like. I’m a different dad, now.” 
> 
> “And I’m a different Jeremy."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the kudos and comments; kind of surprised people are actually invested, since this is an incredibly self-indulgent fic. This chap is from Jeremy's POV, and it's pretty angsty. Even so, I hope you enjoy!

Jeremy blinked his eyes open, awakening with a horrible crick in his back that kept him pinned to the ground. He stared up at the ceiling, where remnants of glow-in-the-dark stars twinkled back at him. Was it daytime? Was it night? With his blinds pulled shut, Jeremy had no idea.

He didn’t care enough to check.

His stomach was a hollow pit, but with the spinal pain and no energy to cook for himself, going downstairs to get food was a lost cause. Then again, the rations he’d brought upstairs a few days ago were all but depleted, the peanut butter jar scraped clean and the family-size box of Cheez-Its nothing more than an empty coffin.

Sure, his dad had left money to order pizza. Hell, he’d left enough to order pizza for every meal this week. Jeremy snorted—his father, who had been hell-bent on becoming Dad 2.0, had left Jeremy alone for an entire week while he went on a business retreat. But having to dial a number, or go online, or even answer the door was too much. There was no way he could go out and get more food, much less leave the house for school, so he’d been holed up here ever since.

“I expect you’ll go to school while I’m gone,” his father had said over breakfast the morning before he left. Jeremy had gone to school for a few days, but after his date with Christine, complained to his dad that he had pushed himself too far, too soon after his hospital stay. His father had relented, so long as Jeremy had a friend bring his homework.

No one came to the house, but his father was too busy with work to notice.

Jeremy replayed his father’s parting words: “I let you have some time off to recuperate, but don’t think you can just skip school whenever you like. I’m a different dad, now.”

“And I’m a different Jeremy,” the tall boy whispered to his starry ceiling. He winced at his aching throat. Maybe he should get some water.

He managed to sit up, despite the pain in his back, and by the time he was on his butt he was exhausted. To distract himself from the pain or thinking, he stared at the television across from him. The Nintendo 64 was switched on, and Mario’s disembodied head watched him while calypso music played.

Jeremy damn near had a heart attack when he realized the Italian plumber was staring into the depths of his soul. It was the most awake he’d felt in the past two weeks, and for a moment he was thankful. At the very least, he had the energy to get a glass of water from downstairs.

He trudged down the steps, only stumbling three or four times because his right foot was asleep, and grabbed a glass from the sink. Not checking if it was dirty, he stuck it under the faucet and waited for the water to fill it up.

As he waited, he squinted out the window. It was daytime.

Just when he switched the faucet off, something static crackled behind him.

“Well, that’s certainly a healthy, balanced meal.”

Jeremy wasn’t surprised or energized enough to jump at the sudden voice. He’d honestly seen it coming.

“You aren’t real,” he croaked, bringing the cup to his lips.

“You think some carbonated, colored sugar water is going to destroy a super computer?”

Jeremy thought about how carbonated, colored sugar water had activated the SQUIP in the first place.

“That was different,” the SQUIP said.

Not really.

Jeremy focused on the azalea bush outside. Man, that was a nice azalea bush. He could meditate on that bush for days straight. That bush was the shit, the bee’s knees, the—

“It’s a shame, isn’t it, that Michael isn’t worried about you?”

Jeremy set the glass down. He hadn’t sipped a single drop. “He texted me.”

“But did he bother to visit? To stop by?”

“He’s giving me space.”

“To make you feel better?” The SQUIP sounded closer now. Their breath tickled Jeremy’s neck. They shouldn’t have been able to do that; they weren’t real. “Or because he hates you?”

Jeremy whirled around, throwing a punch at the SQUIP. Something crashed across the room. He glanced from his empty hands to a wet spot on the wall. Shards of glass coated the floor. The SQUIP was, at least for now, gone.

Maybe he should text Michael back, at least to lie and say he was okay.

But Michael would never believe him. 

Jeremy picked his way around the glass and padded back upstairs. Michael was better off forgetting about him. Michael had the rest of the SQUIP Squad; he had cool, new friends to match his own coolness. He didn’t need someone like Jeremy holding him back.

“I’m the real loser,” Jeremy muttered in his gravelly voice as he flopped down on the bed, Nintendo 64 controller in hand.

The SQUIP materialized next to him. “You really _are_ a loser, Jeremy,” they said. An arm fell across Jeremy’s shoulders, and the SQUIP continued. “You know why you’re a loser?”

Jeremy toyed with the control stick, tears stinging in the corners of his eyes. “Because everything about me is terrible.”

“So terrible,” the SQUIP added. “So, so terrible.”

Jeremy pressed START and directed Mario towards the Princess’ castle, all while the SQUIP leaned in and told Jeremy just how ugly, horrible, and worthless he was.

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It shouldn’t have been possible for Jeremy’s house to loom over them, but Michael was starting to feel like Link at the base of Ganon’s Tower. He would have said that aloud, but none of the SQUIP Squad would have understood the reference. So, he bit his tongue.
> 
> The things he did for friends.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I honestly cried a bit last night at everyone's comments. This is the nicest fandom ever and I'm so #blessed
> 
> Make sure you check the updated tags to know what to look out for while you read :)

It shouldn’t have been possible for Jeremy’s house to loom over them, but Michael was starting to feel like Link at the base of Ganon’s Tower. He would have said that aloud, but none of the SQUIP Squad would have understood the reference. So, he bit his tongue.

The things he did for friends.

“There aren’t any cars in the driveway,” Jenna noted, motioning to said empty lot of asphalt.

Michael sighed, eyes drawn to the house’s windows. “There are a few lights on inside, and they aren’t the ones the Heeres’ usually leave on when they vacation. “

“It’s kind of creepy, how much you know about him,” Chloe commented.

Michael ignored her. “My guess is, Mr. Heere’s at work and Jeremy’s hanging out inside.”

“How can you be sure he’s home?” Jake had finished hefting the last bag of junk food from his car, slamming the door shut with his foot and nearly tripping over the curb. “Or that he’ll answer?”

“I can’t.” Michael reached into the pocket of his hoodie and fished out a keyring. “Which is why I brought Jeremy’s house key.”

He brandished it like a Zelda dungeon key, hoping his friends would shower him with “ooh”s and “aah”s.

Instead, Rich made yet another comment about how Michael and Jeremy were “definitely fuckbuddieth,” while Jenna asked if Michael was even supposed to have it.

“You didn’t steal it from them, did you?”

Michael crammed the key back into his pocket. “What? No! Of course not! Mr. Heere gave it to me a few years ago.”

“Why?” Jenna pressed. 

_“If you need somewhere to stay,” Mr. Heere said, pressing the cool metal into Michael’s warm palm. “If you need a different family, or a different house, just for a day.”_

“So I could sneak into the house and bone his son,” Michael said as he traipsed up the front walk. “Obviously.”

“Y’know, it’th not ath funny coming from hith mouth,” Rich whispered to Jake, just loud enough that Michael could hear.

Willing his blush to fade for the second time that day, Michael knocked a little tune on the door, punctuating the rhythm by ringing the doorbell. He took a step back, brushing against Brooke, and the seven teens waited for the door to open.

Michael silently counted the seconds as they ticked by, reaching thirty-two before the quiet was shattered.

“I’ve got thith,” Rich said. He shouldered past the rest of the group and raised one beefy arm, banging it against the door full-force.

“Jesus!” Chloe grabbed Rich by the back of his shirt and yanked him away. “You’re gonna break it into splinters!”

“At leatht I wath loud!” Rich retorted. “Jeremy had to have heard that.”

Everyone stood in rapt silence once again.

No one came to the door.

Michael bit his lip. Jeremy _had_ to be here—where else would he have been for the past two weeks?

The rhetorical question lead to images of Jeremy in a hospital bed, or stranded in some far-off city, or lying on his bedroom floor with an empty orange bottle in his hands.

Michael couldn’t help but whine as the images worsened, and his chest tightened with each flashing image. White spots flitted across his vision, blotting out Brooke and Chloe and Jake and everyone. There was a hand on his arm, gentle and light, but the sensation made his flesh burn. He jerked away, cupping his face in his hands and shaking his head back and forth. He felt his mouth move, felt himself exhaling harsh breaths, but he couldn’t tell what he’s even saying.

He fell to his knees, and the world went silent, save for his choking, heaving sobs.

“Jeremy, _Jeremy_ ,” Michael wheezed.

One of his hands was taken from his face and held firmly. 

“—ael? Michael, it’s Christine. If you can hear me, squeeze my hand." 

Michael clenched his fist so hard, he swore something in Christine’s hand popped. His vision was blurry, so he couldn’t make out her expression.

“Good, you’re doing great,” she cooed, as if he hadn’t just crushed her dainty palm and fingers. “Keep squeezing—yeah, just like that—and try to slow your breathing. In, two, three, then out, two, three.”

Michael’s labored breaths slowed, evening out, and his spotty vision turned to smudgy watercolor vision. He could make out Christine crouched in front of him, close enough to hold his hand but far enough to give him space. Even through the tears in his eyes, he melted at the comforting smile on her face.

“Are you okay?” Jake asked from behind Christine.

“Of course he’s not!” Jenna interjected. “He just—”

Brooke, bless her heart, slapped a hand over Jenna’s mouth. The blonde gave a sympathetic smile to Michael. “Are you feeling any better?”

Unable to form a coherent sentence, Michael just nodded.

Rich crossed his arms, leaning against the Heere household. “What wath that about, dude?”

“Jeremy,” Michael managed. He winced. The one word he could say was the one that had sent him into a panic in the first place.

“We can check inside the house for him,” Chloe assured Michael. “If he’s not there, we’ll just… wait for his dad to get home, or something.”

The sandbags holding down Michael’s tongue lifted, and he stumbled to his feet. “B-but that’s just the thing—maybe we shouldn’t go in.” He hated those words, hated how he trembled at the thought that Jeremy wouldn’t want to see them, that this was purposeful. That he didn’t want to be found.

Rich grabbed him by the shoulders, pulling their faces together until their noses almost touched. Under any other circumstances, Michael would have giggled and said “gay.”

“Michael,” Rich said, “You thaid it yourthelf: Jeremy needth uth, even if he doethn’t realithe it. We’re going in that houth and figuring out what’th going on with Jeremy, one way or another.”

Michael knew that Rich expected a reply, but didn’t know what to say. Guilt washed over him, making his face burn yet again. He’d doubted not only Jeremy, but himself. Hell, he’d almost turned tail out of his fear of confronting Jeremy. Some friend Michael was.

He’d prepared to give a half-assed response to Rich’s pep talk, but the sound of a door clicking open sent a rush of icy adrenaline from his chest to his fingertips and toes.

Jeremy Heere, his crush of five years, his player two, the one he wanted so desperately to tell him what was going on, stood across the threshold.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jeremy had looked at everyone in the group so far, met their eyes and stood his ground.
> 
> Everyone except Michael.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I swear there will be fluff eventually and maybe some humor please don't hate me for hurting Jeremy he's still My Boy.

Michael couldn’t sugarcoat it—Jeremy looked like shit. It shattered his heart to look at him. When’s the last time the kid showered? His dark curls were matted and pressed against his sweaty forehead, his eyes red and puffy from crying, drugs, or maybe a mix of the two. His trademark cardigan hung loosely from his shoulders, the fabric on the ends of his sleeves worn and not properly hiding his trembling fingers.

“Jeremy…?” Christine managed. It broke the spell over the group, and Michael blinked as though he were just waking up.

“What are you guys doing here?” It wasn’t accusatory, but Michael still felt hot shame crash over him like a wave. Jeremy sounded so fucking exhausted.

“You haven’t been at school in two weeks, dude,” Jake replied. “Not since the break-up.”

“I’m not that broken up over the break-up,” Jeremy snapped. He winced and glanced towards Christine, not meeting her concerned gaze. “No offense.”

“None taken,” she said softly.

“ _Sooooo_.” Chloe pursed her lips on the word. “What have you been up to?”

“Nothing.”

Damn, that was a quick response. Michael did his best to keep a glare off of his face. Jeremy wasn’t usually that defensive, even when Michael would catch him having fun on the other side of the phone. Why wasn’t Jeremy going to be honest to his friends? His closest friends? His _only_ friends?

Rich snorted, though not in a mean-spirited way. “Nothing? For two weekth? That thoundth more like Michael than you, Jeremy.”

“Not to drag Michael, but Rich has a point,” Brooke said. “We’ve missed you, and thought it would be fun to drop by and spend time with you. And if you haven’t been up to anything…”

Jeremy’s face scrunched up, and Michael wondered if he would turn them away. Michael watched his best friend scan the group, sizing them up like chickens for slaughter. A shiver shot down his spine at the thought of what Jeremy would do if they were sent packing. He looked shitty enough as it was, with hollow eyes and paler-than-usual skin.

Michael kept his gaze level and trained on Jeremy. The longer this (incredibly awkward) conversation dragged on, the more he feared the SQUIP had, by some miraculous means, returned. He watched for signs that Jeremy wasn’t quite listening, or that his eyes were focused on something other than his friends.

Jeremy had looked at everyone in the group so far, met their eyes and stood his ground.

Everyone except Michael.

“Jeremy.” Michael found his voice, the one that had been hiding deep down inside of him for the past several minutes.

Jeremy didn’t meet his gaze. He didn’t even react to Michael’s voice. A pang of icy dread speared Michael’s gut as memories of Jeremy’s optic nerve blocking swam across his vision. There still hadn’t been an official apology.

Michael shook his head. He could get an apology later, when Jeremy was in a better state of mind. “Can we come in?” 

Still no response.

Michael gulped before saying, “We brought some Mountain Dew Red.”

That’s what made Jeremy’s head snap up, his bright blue eyes meeting Michael’s brown ones. A bizarre expression fell upon Jeremy’s face—fear, mixed with surprise, and garnished with just a pinch of confusion.

Jake fished the bottle from one of his bags and held it out to Jeremy.

Jeremy looked at the bottle as one would regard a complex post-modernist painting—with a critical, inquisitive gaze.

Wordlessly, he took the bottle from Jake, holding it by the cap with two fingers, and turned to head back inside.

“Jeremy, wait!” Christine cried as he passed through the doorway.

Jeremy glanced back, his brows furrowed. “I’m not gonna close the door on you guys.” Something similar to the groan of a monster truck rumbled from the same vicinity as Jeremy, and his pallid flesh darkened into an intense red. “I could use a snack, anyways.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Jere,” Michael breathed. “Jeremy, look at me.”
> 
> “I can’t.”
> 
> “Why?”
> 
> “You deserve better than me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I seriously can't thank you guys enough for all of the comments. I've had such a horrible summer so far, and this has been a bit of light through all the darkness. Seriously, from the bottom of my shrunken, deformed heart, thank you.
> 
> Also, I apologize for all of the video game references. I kind of know Super Mario 64 like the back of my hand, so I projected that onto Jeremy and Michael.

The food was strewn in bowls across Jeremy’s bedroom floor, and the group crammed into the small area to watch Jeremy play _Super Mario 64_. No one had really spoken much, except for the occasional “can you pass the popcorn?” or “who the hell got Cool Ranch Doritos?” (followed by Rich snapping, “Everyone loves Cool Ranch you heathen”).

Michael was glad that Jeremy was at least eating, scooping up handfuls of junk food and sipping the Mountain Dew Red between bouts with Goombas and Bob-ombs. Jeremy was even talking, though it was just asking Michael where the last red coin in Hazy Maze Cave was located.

“I like that you jump through paintings in this game,” Christine said. “It reminds me of when Christine steps through the mirror in _Phantom_.”

Chloe scoffed. “And in the movie it sends her to a nightmarish dungeon like this. Seriously, this level is terrifying. Can’t you play a cute one with cats, or rainbows, or something that isn’t a disgusting spider with suction cup feet?”

“I’m trying to get all the stars,” Jeremy explained, though it came out garbled thanks to his mouthful of Doritos.

Rich leaned over Michael to grab some of the chips. “Why are you even doing all of thith for Printheth Peach? All you get out of it ith thome thitty cake. Not even a whiff of thweet, royal puthy.”

Brooke wrinkled her nose. “Bad touch, Rich.”

“Yoshi’s got the right idea,” Michael interjected. “Stay on the roof, away from women.”

“Rude,” Jenna said as she elbowed Michael’s back.

“Gay,” Rich teased.

Michael glanced over to see if Jeremy had at least gotten a bit of amusement out of the exchange, but his eyes were narrowed, his attention entirely focused on climbing the neck of a blue dinosaur. Mario clipped off of the beast and fell into the water with a splash.

“Shit,” Jeremy hissed.

Michael watched as Jeremy once more tried and failed to ascend the dinosaur. Three tries later, he held out his hand. “Jere, want me to try?”

Jeremy handed the controller over, and Michael fiddled with the buttons. “No wonder you’re having trouble—this control stick is janky!”

“Blame _Mario Party_ ,” Jeremy replied. “That tug-o-war game killed the controller _and_ my hand.”

“At leatht you’ve got other thtuff to keep your handth occupied nowadayth,” Rich said with a snicker. He could easily have been implying masturbation, but a jab to Michael’s spine said otherwise.

“Yup,” Michael retorted, “Jeremy just loves using his big, strong hands to help me clean gunk out of my old consoles.”

Jeremy didn’t react.

Alright, that was it. As soon as Michael reached the star and Mario did his little “here we go!”, he paused the game and faced Jeremy with crossed arms. If Jeremy wasn’t going to talk about his problems, Michael was going to force them out of him. Embarrassing Jeremy was the last thing he wanted to do, but watching his best friend suffer trumped his desire to keep Jeremy from blushing.

Jeremy glanced at him, expression blank, while the rest of the SQUIP Squad looked on.

Michael straightened his back and puffed out his chest. With the cheery soundtrack in the background, this was not nearly as intimidating as he wanted it to be.

“Jeremy,” Michael began. His lips remained parted, but only a ribbon of air passed between them. He was at a loss for words. The speech he’d prepared was a foggy memory when he saw Jeremy’s bottom lip tremble, how his eyes flickered to the corner of the room right next to the television. 

“Jere.” Michael rested his hands on Jeremy’s. The pale boy flinched, but didn’t move away. “Jere, where is it?”

Once more, Jeremy looked at the blank wall next to the television.

“What’s it doing?”

All sound left the room, leaving the place a vacuum of tension. Jeremy glanced between Michael and the wall, biting his lip so hard that a bead of blood dribbled down his chin. Michael didn’t wipe it away—he didn’t want to move from this position, where his hands held Jeremy’s and they were content to sit so close.

“It…” the rest of the SQUIP Squad leaned in, necks craning to catch Jeremy’s breathy words. “It’s talking.”

“What’s it saying?” Brooke reached over to rub Jeremy’s shoulder, but Michael caught her eye and shook his head. Jeremy was panicked enough as it was—he didn’t need any more surprises, even if they were well intended.

Jeremy’s eyes grew cloudy, and he spoke like a student reading aloud from a textbook. “‘Everything about you is terrible. They aren’t really your friends; they only like you because I made you popular. Once you’ve lost your luster, they’ll abandon you.’”

There was a pause as Michael took in Jeremy’s words. The others had told him about what their SQUIPs had said, those cruel words spilled from silver tongues, but never had he expected to hear such a blatant lie, especially one that Jeremy seemed to believe.

“That wath jutht you repeating what it thaid, right Jeremy?” Rich asked, looking uncharacteristically nervous. “It wathn’t, like, taking over your body or anything?”

The distressed expression, the trembling lips and body, told Michael that Jeremy was completely in control. This was just a voice in Jeremy’s head, but if it repeated these things to Jeremy, over and over, and if Jeremy had heard nothing but these lies since leaving the hospital…

“Jere,” Michael breathed. “Jeremy, look at me.”

“I can’t.”

“Why?”

“You deserve better than me.”

Michael’s heart was already in pieces, but it’s like that goddamn Keanu knockoff had crushed those shards to dust, snorted them through a rolled-up dollar bill, and sneezed them out onto Michael’s face.

After a few moments of hesitation, Michael slowly moved his hands from Jeremy’s hands to the boy’s face. “I don’t want anything _other_ than you,” Michael murmured. “You’re my Player Two.”

Jeremy turned his head, like he was listening to the SQUIP. “You’ve got Players Three through Eight right over here.”

Michael wiped one of Jeremy’s tears with his thumb. “That doesn’t make you matter any less to me.”

He realized, then, how close the two were, how they could feel one another’s breath on their lips. Michael pulled back first, a bit more quickly than intended, and dropped his hands down to pat Jeremy’s knees. 

The room was somber now, and Michael glanced to the others. With any luck, one of them would be able to telepathically communicate the best course of action to Michael, and he would follow through, and Jeremy would feel instantly better and maybe they’d get to hold hands again.

Six blank faces, some teary, stared at him. No such luck, then.

Jeremy stared across the room, though now Michael couldn’t tell if it was at the television or the SQUIP. Michael held in a sigh; if Rich’s SQUIP hadn’t returned, then why was Jeremy hearing the voice of a SQUIP that he’d had for far less time?

“I’m sorry,” Jeremy eventually whispered.

Michael let out the sigh. Mountain Dew Red had left the SQUIP just a step above powerless. They didn’t have their shock abilities or the power to sync up with the other deactivated SQUIPs, but they had been strong enough to survive the Red.

“Hith THQUIP wath pretty damn powerful,” Rich had mentioned during study hall last Thursday. “It took mine a lot longer to get that much control over my body.”

So, Jeremy’s SQUIP must have latched on for the long haul, only their powers gone after that steamy Mountain Dew bath. Their presence was probably worsened by Jeremy’s guilty conscience, of his insecurities and poor self-esteem. With half a bottle of Mountain Dew Red in Jeremy’s stomach, that was the only logical explanation for the SQUIP’s presence.

Michael adjusted himself so that he leaned against Jeremy’s bed, once again facing the television. He handed the discarded controller to Jeremy.

“Alright, Jere, here’s what I’m—no, here’s what _we’re_ gonna do to prove that we’re always here for you.”

Jeremy nodded slowly and closed his eyes. Michael smiled at how Jeremy’s shoulders relaxed ever so slightly, and divulged his plan to the group. He didn’t give a shit if the SQUIP heard or not—if they did, that might make everything way more fun.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Their plan wasn't flawless, and it wasn't the best, but it was goofy enough that Jeremy might eventually crack a smile, albeit a weak one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The chapter in which everyone makes funnies. I hope there isn't too much mood whiplash, but I also hope that anyone who has felt personally victimized by this story's angst will smile.

Their plan wasn't flawless, and it wasn't the best, but it was goofy enough that Jeremy might eventually crack a smile, albeit a weak one.

Mario had just done an impressive backflip into Bob-omb Battlefield when Jeremy winced, hands tightening on the controller.

"Jeremy?" Jake ventured.

Jeremy fiddled with his hair. “This is kind of—I mean, are you sure you're okay with this? They don’t say the nicest things about me, or any of you, for that matter.”

Michael squeezed Jeremy's shoulder. “Just tell us what they said.”

Jeremy sighed, eyes trained on the television. “They're saying that you guys are probably regretting coming over." The controller trembled, and Michael could tell it wasn't from the rumble pack. “They think you're gonna make fun of me for what it says, and that you’ll probably agree with it.”

Michael frowned at Jeremy. The plan might make things worse before it got better. “Where is it standing?”

Jeremy lifted one hand and pointed at the corner next to the television.

Michael rose from his position next to Jeremy, a bit remorseful to leave behind their body contact. After taking a deep breath, he went to Jeremy's bedside table and took the lamp, yanking its plug from the wall. Ignoring Jeremy's protest, Michael waved the lamp around, jousting with the invisible SQUIP in the corner.

“Hey SQUIP, why don't you lighten the fuck up?”

He expected laughter but was met with groans. The lamp dangled uselessly at his side as he turned around. “What?”

“Puns? Really?” Jake asked. “You can do better, Michael.”

“Oh, come on! That was a good one though! Right?” Michael scanned their faces. “Jenna? Rich? You two love puns.”

The two shared a look. Jenna finally said, “I mean, it was _okay_. Not Oscar-worthy or anything.”

Christine gave a sheepish smile. “I was, um, kind of impressed?”

Michael made an exaggerated frown and returned the lamp to the nightstand. “Fine. If you guys are so good, let's see what you can do.”

Surprisingly, Brooke reacted first. She jumped from her position on the bed and snatched the bowl of popcorn. “They still in the corner?”

Jeremy looked slightly annoyed, but nodded.

“I feel like we should maybe apologize to the SQUIP,” Brooke said, expression serious. Michael held his breath, hoping a playful twinkle would shine in her eyes.

Oh how the lord does provide.

“Sorry for the corny jokes!” She took a few kernels and tossed them in the corner, letting out a snort at her own joke. Chloe joined her in throwing popcorn. 

Michael pouted to hide his laughter. “My pun was way better!”

Rich seized the bowl from Brooke's hands and shouted, “Eat a dick, shithead!” He promptly launched the entire bowl at the corner of the room, spilling the food everywhere.

"Rich!" Christine scolded. 

Jake, who was doubled-over in laughter, managed to say, “That wasn’t even a _pun!_ ”

Christine huffed. “I can clean it up, Jeremy. Where's the vacuum?”

Jeremy didn't reply, seemingly transfixed by the corner.

Michael rubbed Jeremy's shoulder, doing what little he could to make sure his best friend was grounded in reality.

“‘Even if they're your friends, they're idiots.’”

Michael glanced at Jeremy, unable to conceal his grin. Jeremy returned the stare with worried, wet eyes.

“The SQUIP admitted that we're friends!” Michael squealed. He couldn't let his smile falter; Jeremy needed this.

“Take that you Keanu-ass mother _fucker_!” Jenna seized the Doritos and made another mess in the corner.

Rich gasped. “Not the cool ranch! You monster!” His grief was short-lived as he fished his phone from his pocket and tapped around.

Jeremy continued to repeat the SQUIP's words, though this time with less malice in his voice. “‘They'll abandon you when it comes to colleges--they're smarter and better than you'll ever be, not without a functioning SQUIP. You might as well swallow a—’”

Rich's phone exploded with the MLG air horn sound effect. He and Jenna high-fived, laughing so hard that they almost fell from the bed. Michael laughed along with them, his laughter growing more violent with each blare of the air horn.

Jeremy could barely get a full sentence out, each verb and noun and adjective about how horrible he was punctuated with a trashy meme.

A faint smile tugged at his lips, and Michael considered that a victory.

Jeremy eventually set the controller down and stopped speaking, though it took Rich a minute to stop pressing the button. The laughter died down, and Jeremy's expression went somewhat sour.

“What's up?” Michael asked. They were sitting really close—God, Jeremy was practically in his lap, shoulders pressed close as he navigated Mario along an icy slide.

“I think you guys pissed them off.”

“Well, no shit,” Chloe muttered. “We threw food at them.”

“What are they saying now?” Christine asked tentatively.

Jeremy hesitated, regarding the corner. It was silent for several moments before he let out a choked noise.

“Jere!” Michael pressed closer to his friend (they had to be basically Inside of each other now, right?) and Jeremy's shoulders shook against his own. “Jere, it's okay.”

“I know!” Was Jeremy... laughing? “I know it's okay.”

Michael put a hand on his own heart. “Jeremiah Heere, is that laughter?”

“You really pissed them off,” Jeremy chuckled. “They don’t want to talk anymore.”

“Why not?” Michael asked.

“Because they hate the air horn.”

Rich blasted the sound effect a few more times for good measure.

Michael melted into a warm puddle at the sight of Jeremy's smirk. It was a weary, exhausted smile, but the tears had left his eyes and his cheeks had received a bit more color. For now, Jeremy was content.

Michael jumped when Jeremy's fingers brushed against his, and glanced down to see what was happening.

“Sorry,” Jeremy murmured as he retrieved the controller. Michael’s face heated up, but Jeremy was too focused on the game to notice.

Mario lunged straight over the edge of Cool, Cool Mountain with an over-enthusiastic “woo-hoo!” The SQUIP Squad roared at this, with Jake and Rich starting a contest to see who could best imitate the plummeting plumber's scream.

Jeremy had just received another star when Michael decided to check in. He elbowed his best friend and raised an eyebrow.

“How’re you holding up? Any peeps from that bastard yet?”

“I’m not great,” Jeremy confessed, “but I'm doing better. I think the air horn shut them up for the time being.”

“You thould get the app!” Rich suggested. “It’th free.”

“Besides,” Jenna added, “You shouldn’t let your memes be memes.”

Chloe rolled her eyes. “Jenna, I will actually strangle you.”

“My memes will protect me from your wrath.”

“Fair enough.”

Michael grinned, and rested his arm across Jeremy's shoulders. In turn, Jeremy's head nestled into the crook of Michael's neck. At least now, with Jeremy in a better mood, rich had the decency to not cry out "Red Rover, homos!" and wedge his calf between them to make "one bible length of room."

From somewhere on the bed behind them, voice blanketed by the game’s light piano music, Christine mused, “Who knew memes could defeat super computers?”


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everyone else was still asleep, collapsed on Jeremy’s bedroom floor in a big heap. Michael smiled, spotting Rich’s twitching fingers, and Chloe’s face buried deep in Brooke’s hair.
> 
> He glanced to the bed, and his smile fell when he noticed that Jeremy wasn’t there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy moly, almost 2000 hits? You guys are killing me here.

Michael quite literally woke up with stars in his eyes. The ceiling was covered in them. He sat up, rubbing his head, and wondering for a few brief moments where he was.

The events of the previous evening came rushing back to him—Jeremy, in tears, believing in what the SQUIP said about how no one wanted to be his friend, and the group throwing food whenever the SQUIP so much as opened its mouth. Michael clenched his fist and let out a huff. He snatched his phone to check the time.

“Four thirty?” he hissed. Everyone else was still asleep, collapsed on Jeremy’s bedroom floor in a big heap. Michael smiled, spotting Rich’s twitching fingers, and Chloe’s face buried deep in Brooke’s hair.

He glanced to the bed, and his smile fell when he noticed that Jeremy wasn’t there. Willing his heart to stop thumping, Michael rose carefully (gently moving Christine’s arm off of his chest) and exited the bedroom. If Jeremy wasn’t in the house, then he’d allow himself to go into panic mode.

Fortunately, it didn’t come to that. Jeremy sat in the kitchen, fumbling to peel a clementine. Michael hadn’t intended to startle him, but a floorboard squeaking beneath his feet alerted Jeremy to his presence.

“Sorry,” Michael said when Jeremy whipped around. The other boy just shrugged, managing to get a bit of the peel torn away. “Need help?”

Jeremy held out the clementine, defeated.

As Michael sat down and finished peeling it, they fell into a semi-comfortable silence. He handed the fruit back to Jeremy and watched him eat.

“You should’ve said something, man.”

It came out before Michael could stop it. Jeremy’s expression was unreadable, and Michael gave up on trying to translate what those eyes were communicating. He tossed his glasses onto the table and massaged his eyeballs.

“I’m—shit—that’s not what I meant.”

Jeremy sat quietly, and Michael took the opportunity to collect his thoughts. After a few breaths, he retrieved his glasses and continued.

“You have no fucking clue how worried we were, Jere, _all_ of us. I thought you’d abandoned me. Again.” He tried to laugh, but it came out as a weird gurgle.

Jeremy played with a piece of clementine peel. “I’m sorry.”

“No, no, no,” Michael said as he wagged his finger. “I’m not looking for an apology, Jeremy. Not right now.”

“Then what do you want?” 

God, Jeremy sounded tired. His eyes, framed by bags, and his trembling hands told Michael more than he wanted to know about just how much Jeremy had been suffering. Michael swallowed nervously and pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose. 

“The shit your SQUIP says to you isn’t true. Not a single word.” Jeremy opened his mouth to protest, but Michael shut him down. “They say everything about you is terrible, Jeremy, but that’s utter crap. Everything about you is _wonderful_. You’re nice and you’re generous and you’re good at video games—sometimes you’re even better than me—and you’ve put up with twelve years of my bullshit.”

“I abandoned you, Michael. I willingly abandoned you.”

“But you came back!” Michael had to admit he was giving Jeremy plenty of leeway with his past mistakes. Then again, looking at his hollow expression, the boy needed it. “So why push me away?”

Jeremy froze, eyes narrowing in suspicion. “You want an explanation?”

Michael nodded.

Jeremy sighed, flicking a stray crumb onto the floor. “Everything the SQUIP tells me—about how horrible and ugly I am and all that—is something I’ve already thought about myself, before I even took the pill. And now that I’ve got an actual, legitimate voice in my head…” he made a vague gesture with his hands.

Michael grabbed those hands and held them down on the table.

“Are they talking to you right now?”

Jeremy shook his head. “They’re staring.”

“They should fuck off.”

Jeremy looked surprised at the venom dripping from Michael’s voice. “M-Michael…?”

“For every one lie that shit-stain of an operating system tells you, know that all seven of your friends have a compliment to give you, or some reason to be thankful for your existence. You can’t let the voices in your head tear you down, Jere. They can be loud, sure, but your friends can be louder. And you know what _you_ can be?”

“What?”

“The loudest.” Jeremy suddenly found the ground very interesting. “You said that to me when you were out of the hospital, remember? The first day you came back to school? You said, ‘Of all the voices in my head, the loudest one is mine.’ What happened to that voice?”

“I guess I lost it.” 

Michael squeezed Jeremy’s hands. “Then drink some tea and get that voice back, Jeremy.” 

Jeremy looked up, teary-eyed but no longer as pale.

“What?” Michael asked.

“I know you were just using a metaphor, but tea sounds nice right now.”

“I’ll make some, then.” Michael rose from his seat and worked with the kettle. They fell silent again, but this time it was much more comfortable.

“Hey, Michael?”

“What’s up?”

“I just want to apologize for—”

“Not right now.” Michael eyed Jeremy. “Someday, dude. Just not today, alright? I’ve already unofficially forgiven you, anyways.”

“Okay.” There was a pause. “Oh, and Michael?”

“Hm?”

“I, uh, like your patch.”

Michael whirled around to see Jeremy—god, was he _blushing?_ —and found his own cheeks were burning yet again. He reached one arm across his chest to caress the tight threads of the pride flag patch.

“Th-thanks. It’s the gay flag,” Michael said intelligently.

Jeremy managed a laugh. “I know.” His face flushed. “Um, it’s nice.”

“It’s kind of gay.” Wow, Michael was really a great conversationalist today.

“You’re kind of gay.”

“No, _you’re_ kind of gay.”

Jeremy’s Adam’s apple bobbed. Michael stared him down, wondering what that was about.

That’s when Christine stumbled down the stairs, rubbing sleep from her eyes, and the conversation came to an abrupt halt.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There was a bit of tension in the basement at all times. There were two distinct reasons for this.
> 
> One: because Michael refused to let Jeremy smoke pot. The reason, though never voiced, filled the space between them on the sofa—there was no telling what the SQUIP would act like if Jeremy was high, and Michael wasn’t going to risk a bad trip becoming a nightmarish trip.
> 
> Two: because Jeremy’s backpack now bore a bisexual pride pin, and it was smack dab in the center of the “o” of “boyf.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy cow... here's the end. Thank you guys, really, for all of the comments and kudos and bookmarks and hits. This fic comes from a personal place, and I'm so honored that all of you have responded so positively to it. It's made my shitty summer much more bearable. 
> 
> I hope this ending is uplifting and realistic. Let me know what you think! Comments make my day, and I try to respond to everyone :)

One week passed, and Jeremy had gotten back into the habit of eating and going to school. It wasn’t a painless experience by any means, but being active instead of playing Nintendo all day seemed to be doing his body and mind some good. Jake and Brooke had been nice enough to catch Jeremy up on his work, and the two may or may not have slipped him a cheat sheet for the precalc test (though Jeremy was never one to kiss and tell).

He went over to Michael’s house after school every day, sometimes with another SQUIP Squad member, sometimes alone. No matter the case, there was a bit of tension in the basement at all times. There were two distinct reasons for this.

One: because Michael refused to let Jeremy smoke pot. The reason, though never voiced, filled the space between them on the sofa—there was no telling what the SQUIP would act like if Jeremy was high, and Michael wasn’t going to risk a bad trip becoming a nightmarish trip.

Two: because Jeremy’s backpack now bore a bisexual pride pin, and it was smack dab in the center of the “o” of “boyf.”

Michael had noticed it immediately, and had been somewhat quiet around Jeremy ever since. If it hadn’t been for the rest of the SQUIP Squad congratulating him on coming out, he would have removed the pin immediately. He knew Michael wasn’t offended by his best friend being bi—why would he, being gay himself? Jeremy wondered if he should have come out to Michael in person, if this had upset him somehow.

He didn’t want to ask, afraid of shattering the ice-thin barrier that kept their tension at bay, but Michael finally broke the ice when he paused _Apocalypse of the Damned_ and shifted to face Jeremy.

“So, you’re bi?”

His tone was even, which scared Jeremy more than it reasonably should have.

“Uh, yeah.”

“You’re sure?”

“Positive.”

Michael studied Jeremy carefully, and after a pregnant pause he shrugged.

“Cool.”

The game resumed.

This time, Jeremy was the one to pause the game.

“That’s it? ‘Cool’?”

Michael’s glare was hostile, and Jeremy flinched back.

“Yeah, Jeremy, ‘cool.’ It’s great that you’re bi. Fantastic.”

“If you’re so happy for me, why are you being so sarcastic?”

Michael tossed his controller on the sofa and rolled his eyes. “What do you _want_ me to do, Jeremy?”

“I don’t know!” Jeremy threw his hands up, exasperated. “Maybe act like it’s a bigger deal than me telling you I got a new Amiibo?”

Michael scoffed. “If you wanted me to make a bigger deal out of it, maybe you shouldn’t have just put a pin on your backpack. That’s, like, the most subtle coming-out ever.”

“What, was it not good enough for you? Should I have painted myself blue, pink, and purple and streaked around the school screaming, ‘Bi guy passing bi’? And what’s wrong with putting a pin on my backpack? Your coming out was sewing that patch on!”

Of course, that’s when the SQUIP decided to materialize and butt into the conversation. “I warned you, Jeremy. I told you they didn’t really care.”

“This isn’t about me!” Michael shouted.

“Oh, of course not!” Jeremy shot back. “It’s all about Jeremy. How Jeremy never does exactly what his ‘friends’ want. How Jeremy nearly ruined the play. How Jeremy fucked everything up and everyone over when he took that pill from Japan. How Jeremy is _still_ the messed-up one that everyone walks on eggshells around. How Jeremy is nothing more than a crutch for everyone else’s popularity. How Jeremy is as disposable as a shit-filled diaper!”

Jeremy hadn’t realized he’d been repeating the SQUIP’s words until he noticed them smirking. He threw a pillow at the SQUIP’s face, missing by a solid two feet.

He expected Michael’s anger to switch off and be replaced by concern, for him to pick up on the SQUIP’s presence. Only one of those things happened.

“Stop listening to it!” Michael ordered. “Just ignore it!”

“It’s hard to ignore a voice in your head, Michael.”

“Then be louder!”

Jeremy’s face heated up. “Fine. How’s this for loud? _LA LA LA LA, I CAN’T HEAR YOU!_ ” He even plugged his ears for good measure, closing his eyes and scrunching his face up as he bellowed on. By the time he removed his fingers and opened his eyes, his throat ached. “I’m trying to be the loudest voice, Michael, and it’s not working!”

“You know I didn’t mean yelling when I said to be the loudest!” Michael jumped up from the couch and began pacing.

“If you’re so against yelling, then why are _you_ yelling at _me_? Is it because of my sexuality?”

“Fuck—obviously not!”

“Then why? Give me one good reason why you should be yelling at me right now!”

“Because I’m sick of you hating yourself!”

Jeremy should have been flattered, or shocked into silence, but Michael’s reasoning only made his blood boil.

“That makes no fucking sense! This whole shouting match started because of the pin. You’re yelling at me for doing something prideful for once, instead of sulking around. I’m expressing my sexuality, and somehow that’s a bad thing? Shouldn’t that be the one good thing I’ve done this week? Shouldn’t I get a gold star sticker for thinking positively about myself?”

Michael’s expression changed suddenly, as if he’d been struck in the chest with an arrow. “Wha—Jeremy, I already said I’m not mad about your goddamn pin and how you like dicks and tits!”

“Then why _are_ you mad, Michael? Is it really because I’m a little down on myself?”

“Because I—” Michael’s jaw dangled open. He managed to close it, only to open it again. The process repeated until he found his voice. “I’m not angry at you, dude. I’m frustrated.” He glanced at the floor. “With myself.”

Jeremy’s blood and face cooled, and suddenly he felt dizzy. “What? Why?”

“I… it doesn’t matter.”

“Clearly it does.” Jeremy fiddled with his cardigan. He laughed awkwardly. “We just got into a shouting match, Michael. Whatever’s upsetting you is _really_ upsetting you.”

“It’ll make things worse.”

“He’s going to say he hates you,” the SQUIP piped up.

“Shut up,” Jeremy muttered.

Michael glared at him. “Oh, you wanna start this again?”

“No, not you!” Jeremy squeaked. “SQUIP.”

Michael hesitated, but eventually nodded and sighed. “Okay, fine. I’ll say my piece. And then I’ll let you decide whether or not you want to resume screaming at each other.”

Jeremy leaned back on the sofa, trying to get comfortable but ultimately failing. His nerves were buzzing. “Fine. But at least sit down, Michael, the pacing is kinda scaring me.”

Michael complied, settling on the couch once more. This time, however, he was much closer to Jeremy. So close that their knees touched.

Now that they were settled in, Michael looked nervous. “Before I start—just don’t interrupt me, okay? I’ll let you say whatever you need to when I’m done.”

Jeremy, unable to speak, just nodded. The SQUIP caught his eye and flashed another sinister grin. “This is going to be interesting,” they said.

“Jeremy, “ Michael began. “I know this is a shitty thing to say—such a shitty thing to say—but I’ll get it out of the way. I wish you’d told me you were bi.” Jeremy flared a bit at this, but kept his jaw clamped shut. “You didn’t want to make a big deal out of it yourself, but clearly you wanted validation that you were still a close friend to all of us. I never gave that validation, and I’m sorry.”

The SQUIP laughed. “Does that apology really equate to validating and respecting your sexuality, though? I think not.”

Jeremy didn’t bother looking at the SQUIP—all he cared about right now was focusing on Michael’s words, no matter how much he didn’t want to hear them.

Michael continued, “You came out to everyone in one fell swoop, and that must have taken some major balls. I really gotta commend you for that, dude. It took me years to officially say anything to our classmates, but you told the school and gave zero shits. That’s… that’s good. I’m happy you’re comfortable being you. But…”

Jeremy winced at the conjunction.

“There’s always a catch,” the SQUIP mused.

“I’m jealous of your courage.”

Even the SQUIP looked surprised.

“But you’re Michael Mell!” Jeremy blurted out. “You’ve been petitioning for a GSA at the school for, like, three years!”

Michael smiled despite the interruption, rubbing the back of his neck with one hand. “That doesn’t mean much, Jeremy. I was kind of outed against my will, and just rolled with the punches—sometimes literally. But you—after everything you’ve been through with the SQUIP—you still had the strength to stand up and say, ‘This is who I am.’ And I wish I was that strong. Jere, I wish I was that brave.” He took a deep breath, closing his eyes. “And today, I want to try to be brave. And when I’m done being brave, you can decide if you want to be around me anymore.”

Before Jeremy could ask what those somewhat sinister words meant, Michael closed the distance between them.

Oh.

 _Oh_.

His lips felt nice.

Was Jeremy supposed to be moving his lips? He’d somehow forgotten how to operate his own muscles.

Michael sat back, the kiss ending as quickly as it had begun. He blushed and stared expectantly at Jeremy.

Jeremy finally found the strength to bring his fingers to his lips, but his brain had completely short-circuited. Michael had kissed him. Michael was gay. Jeremy was bi. They’d seen each other naked plenty of times in the past twelve years and _maybe_ shared a bed here and there. Their backpacks still said “boyf” “riends.”

“He’s using you.”

Right. The SQUIP was there, too.

“He’s looking for the one way to break you down. He’s gaining as much of your trust as he can get, and he’s going to break it. He’s going to break _you_ , Jeremy. You don’t want him to do that.”

“Shut up,” Jeremy whispered.

Michael eyed him, more nervous now than ever.

The SQUIP ignored him. “If you leave now, he can’t hurt you any more.”

For a moment, Jeremy almost obeyed. He almost stood up, brushed off his pants, and left Michael behind in the basement. The ghostly scars of his “electroshock therapy” felt alive now, as if the SQUIP was restored to his full power, as if he had control.

No.

Jeremy had control.

And before the SQUIP could scream or Michael could backpedal, Jeremy leaned forward and placed a chaste kiss on Michael’s left cheek. Then another on the right. And then on his lips.

Michael’s hands came up to cup Jeremy’s face, and in turn Jeremy scooted forward until he straddled Michael’s lap. They worked their mouths equally as hard, nipping and licking and drooling all over each other. It wasn’t sexy by any means, but Jeremy would be damned if it wasn’t passionate.

Though reluctant, they had to pull away for breath. During that respite, Jeremy locked eyes with Michael. He felt so in control, his mind so clear, that the words he’d been dreading came bubbling up from his throat. He pressed his forehead against Michael’s.

“I’m so fucking sorry.” Jeremy breathed the words onto Michael’s swollen lips. “For everything. For the SQUIP. Shit, I—”

Michael pulled their faces together again, his mouth desperate as he smothered Jeremy. This kiss was not nearly as passionate—it was a weapon, a way to silence Jeremy.

Jeremy pushed away, which took much more force than usual because Michael was just so hell-bent on keeping their lips locked. He panted, holding Michael’s shoulders back with his hands. When Jeremy met Michael’s gaze, he saw wide, worried eyes.

“Let’s just go back to kissing, Jeremy,” Michael practically begged. “Forget about the apology.”

“No!” Jeremy barked. Michael reeled back at this, leaning as far away from Jeremy as he could despite their current position.

Jeremy took a deep breath and began again, softer this time. “Let me say this, Michael. Please.”

Michael put his hands on Jeremy’s hips, and Jeremy spoke.

He apologized for everything from abandoning Michael at the Halloween party to losing Michael’s holographic Charizard card to Dustin Kropp in a bet during third grade recess (“How was I supposed to know it would be so valuable?”). Throughout the apologies, Michael listened and nodded. He winced as some of the fresher wounds were reopened and coated in a new layer of salt, but he listened nonetheless.

Jeremy was out of breath by the end of his string of “I’m sorry”s, and rested his head in the curve of Michael’s neck. Michael rubbed Jeremy’s back, making shushing noises.

Why?

Jeremy sat up and noticed a huge wet spot on Michael’s hoodie. He reached his hands up and, feeling hot tears on his cheeks, realized just how cathartic that had been.

“I forgive you,” Michael whispered. “For all of it.”

“Even the Charizard card?”

Michael pursed his lips as he pondered the situation. “Almost all of it.”

They laughed. God, it felt good to laugh together. Real, genuine laughter.

Jeremy noticed the SQUIP still watched them, a sour expression on their face. He sighed, stirring the hairs on Michael’s head.

Michael glanced in the SQUIP’s general direction. “Is that obsolete operating system still here?”

“Yeah.” Jeremy sighed again. “Michael, if we’re going to do this, it’s not gonna be sunshine and rainbows. This thing’s part of me. I’m gonna have my bad days.”

Michael placed a gentle kiss on Jeremy’s lips. “I’ll be there, Jeremy. I’ll be there on the good days, and the bad days, and the in-between ones. And whenever that piece of shit tries to tell you that you aren’t worth it, that you aren’t enough…”

The MLG air horn shrieked in Jeremy’s ear, and he fell backwards off of Michael’s lap. Michael held his phone where Jeremy had just been, unable to hold in his giggles.

“I’ll shut that bitch down,” Michael finished.

“I think that air horn is the loudest voice, not mine,” Jeremy confessed.

Laughing, Michael tossed his phone to the side and reached down to help Jeremy back onto the couch. Instead of sitting in Michael’s lap, Jeremy rested his head there. Michael ran his fingers through Jeremy’s hair.

The SQUIP was watching Jeremy’s eyes flutter, their own eyes sinister and full of hatred. Jeremy snuggled deeper into Michael’s lap, closing his eyes so that all he had to focus on was Michael’s soft, warm body.

“Michael?”

“Yeah, Jere?”

“Let me here some more of your puns.”

**Author's Note:**

> Talk to me about Jeremy and Friends on Tumblr: https://squippitysquooty.tumblr.com


End file.
